Dick Contract #2
Stewart Young had helped many people navigate life.
I knew he’d been cataloging every word, every non-verbal cue, and the inflection in every voice.
He was an expert at reading the room. He listened to comprehend, not respond.
And he strove to understand the root cause of any action.
He’d given us the tools to make good decisions, but he also gave us the distance we needed to learn from our own mistakes.
I’ve made many.
“You’re pregnant with your first baby. You’ve watched your body change, and maybe you’re feeling a little insecure.”
“But—”
“That’s normal, sweetheart. And no one’s blaming you. We have all allowed our emotions to get the best of us. Especially Blake.”
Blake’s mouth fell open. “Dad?”
“And she’s loud, too.”
“Really, Dad?” Blake grumbled.
Dad chuckled. “But she’s protective of her family, and that includes you.”
Char nodded, pulling away and wiping her cheeks. “I know it wasn’t personal.”
“Good,” Blake said. “I love you, chile.”
Giggling, Char glanced up at my father. “You’re right.” She walked into Dex’s waiting arms. “I didn’t mean it, baby. I’m just emotional.”
Dex kissed the top of her head. “It’s okay. Remember, I love everything about you.”
“Aw, that’s cute.”
I couldn’t tell if that was Dallas or Blake. It was one of them though, because it was too sarcastic to be Bliss or Paityn.
“So whose baby is it?” Dallas asked, slipping back into minding everyone’s business mode. “It’s not Dex. I guess it’s not Duke.”
Demi laughed. “Girlllll, stop.”
Dallas lifted her hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. It’s not Duke. It’s definitely not Tristan.”
“How do you know?” Blake asked. “It’s not like Fun Killer wasn’t living a secret life for years.”
Waving a dismissive hand, Dallas said, “Yeah, but he’s not the one who would have a kid without being involved. Look at Raven. He’s a very devoted father to her.”
My niece, Raven, hugged her father. “Right? I’m surprised you haven’t mentioned one very important Young.”
Oh, shit.
“You’re right, niecey.” Dallas folded her arms over her chest. “And it’s curious that he’s not here.”
“Asa!” Ma shouted. “Come here.”
Growing up as the youngest of the group, I’d grown accustomed to slipping under the radar, hiding in a corner while the room buzzed around me. But Ma had always seen me. She knew shit I never wanted her to know. It was a gift that she wielded with precision, with no apologies.
As much as I tried, I couldn’t get away with anything.
Not with her. Sometimes she’d let me know she was on to me right away.
Other times, she would let me figure my shit out.
Either way, Ma never let me escape accountability.
When I failed, she didn’t always save the day, but she supported me through it.
“Son, don’t make me come out there,” she warned.
It was my fault. I should’ve walked my ass out of the house instead of ear hustling at the door. Because this was a conversation I never wanted to have. Not with her, not with anyone. Especially not in a room full of people. And Dallas.
Peering up at the ceiling, I blew out a slow breath, sent up a silent prayer, and walked into the room.
“What’s up?” I asked no one in particular.
Ma approached me. “You heard.”
“Dex got some random woman pregnant and Charlye ran into them in the mall?” I shrugged. “That’s all I got.”
“I know you lyin’,” Blake said.
Ma glared at Blake. “I got this.” She turned to me. “Babe, I’m not even going to address your sorry recap of events. I know Dex doesn’t have any kids. You know Dex doesn’t have any kids. What I don’t know is . . . Are you somebody’s daddy?”
The room descended into awkward, tense silence. A stark contrast from a few minutes ago. I met the waiting gazes of all of my siblings as I considered my next move. Lying was an option, but . . .
“Probably,” I admitted.
My mother sucked in a deep breath, placing a hand over her heart. “Oh my goodness.”
Dad frowned. “Explain yourself,” he commanded. “Because I can’t understand how you could be a father and not take care of your kid.”
The weight of his disappointment felt like a slap, and I took a reflexive step back. “That’s not what I said.”
“Then you tell me what you mean when you said you’re probably someone’s dad,” he pressed.
Before it was popular, my father taught me to stand on business.
Which was why I made it a point to keep my movements to myself.
I kept my relationships quiet. I never brought a woman home.
It was common knowledge that my sisters talked too much, so I didn’t share.
Other than the obligatory glimpse into my life to sell my business and the occasional picture on one of my friends’ pages, nothing about my life could be found on the internet either.
I liked it that way.
My parents amassed a fortune teaching others how to stay married and parent their kids.
They were lowkey celebrities with money, influence, and power within our community.
But they never let that keep them from being active, involved parents to us.
Basketball, baseball, track, football, music, dance, karate, sword fighting, rock climbing, junior chef challenges, cheerleading competitions .
. . Every day, no matter what they had going on professionally or personally, they showed up.
We ate breakfast together every morning, took family vacations, played family sports, and had movie nights.
Education was important to them, so they taught us things that would improve productivity, increase our emotional intelligence, and develop perseverance in the face of adversity.
Of all the lessons they taught, though, the one that resonated with me most occurred after I broke the news to my parents that I wasn’t going to college. Instead of forcing me to see things their way, he asked me to help him build a new deck off the back of the house.
That summer, we drafted a layout, applied for a building permit, prepared the site, dug holes, poured cement, built the frame, and installed the deck flooring.
Then, we added stairs and wrought-iron railings.
Finally, we sealed the wood with a protective stain.
For three weeks, we talked while we worked.
Just me and him. I didn’t realize what he was doing until we had our first cookout on the completed deck.
Success starts with a strong foundation.
Plan your approach to avoid wasting resources and mitigate setbacks.
Set boundaries by developing a framework that allows breathing room to expand knowledge over time.
Understand the law and follow it.
Realize that imperfections are a part of life.
At my going-away-slash-graduation party, they handed me an envelope with the money they’d set aside for my first year’s tuition.
We all make choices, son. Good and bad. All the decisions you make from here on out are on you. You don’t have to explain your choices to anyone, but you do have to live with them. Remember that.
When I found myself in a Costa Rican jail, after I lost my wallet in Paris, while I spent hours without power during a hurricane in Jamaica, during a hike in the rainforest, on a river cruise down the Zambezi River .
. . my father’s words played in my head on an endless loop.
I didn’t do everything right, but I always found a way out of a bind.
Even if that meant donating sperm to earn extra money.
“Asa,” my father called out, pulling me from my thoughts. “We’re waiting.”
I swallowed past a hard lump in my throat. “When I was in a bind financially, I donated genetic material to a sperm bank near Wellspring. The money made it possible to pay off debt and buy equipment for the gym.”
“Oh my God,” Dallas whispered. “Wait, so you’re telling us you went into a room, watched porn on TV, and masturbated in a cup so that you could earn extra money?”
“It wasn’t really like that,” I explained.
Blake grimaced. “Nah, nigga, it was like that. You went into the same room other people used before and after you. Then, you didn’t even think about, I don’t know, doing it in another state. Because now there’s a minion walking around Ann Arbor looking like Dex.”
“Blake,” Dex murmured. “Come on, now.”
She shrugged. “Be so fuckin’ for real, Asa. I told you a long time ago to not do dumb shit. Look at where we are.”
Ignoring her, I looked at my mother. “It was anonymous.”
Ma let out a heavy sigh. “Did you consider the possibility that we would find out like this?”
“Yes, I thought of everything when I signed up.”
“Including some kid finding you on a DNA website in the future?” Duke asked.
Glancing at my brother, I nodded. “And the possibility that they would want to meet me.”
Duke raised a brow. “You’re okay with that?”
“I am.” I shrugged. “Sperm produces offspring. Genes make up the individual person, but blood doesn’t make anyone family.” I looked at Demi. My parents took her in when she was a teenager. She was my sister, regardless of whether we shared the same DNA. “Right?”
Demi nodded. “Right.”
“Donating sperm doesn’t make me a parent. Father, technically. Parent, no.”
Bliss approached me, a soft smile on her face. “I think it’s a beautiful thing. You’re giving a gift to parents who need it. How was it?”
After I’d gone through the process a couple of times, I believed I’d done something important. My balls did something selfless. Plus, my family was top tier. My parents, phenomenal human beings. My siblings, smart as hell. Me? I’m good.
“It was a positive experience,” I told Bliss. “And a part of my past. I haven’t done it in years.”
Ma’s shoulders fell. “I’m not saying I agree with you. But . . . at least you didn’t get some poor girl pregnant and ghost her.”
“Mom?” Blake stomped over to us. “That’s it? You’re not going to cuss him out?”
“Why would we do that?” Dad asked her. “You haven’t done things we agree with. Asa is a grown man, and as long as he didn’t hurt someone, I’m fine.”
“This is some bullshit.”